Cloud Number Nine
by LastxManxStanding
Summary: Waking up and having no memory of certain episodes of his life is enough to drive anyone to insanity. Will Dean forever be locked within his mind filled with pot-holes and dark hallways? Or will Sam find a way to help save him?


**Disclaimer;**

I do not, and will never own any characters and/or cars and/or plots from the hit TV Series Supernatural. Alas! I do indeed 'own' (in a matter of speaking) this Fan Fiction. No stealing, yo!**  
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**Topic;**

Supernatural

**Main Characters;**

Dean, Sam, (mentions of) John and the Metallicar.

**Pairings;**

None. (For the time being. But no Wincent, I promise.)

**Rating;**

T, for Teen for the time being.

**Genre;**

Angst / Drama / Supernatural / Horror / Hurt&Comfort / Family

**Note;**

Any Legends/places/medical terms may not be 100% accurate, or true at all. This story is fiction, thus all topics within are also fiction, unless stated otherwise.

**Plot;**

While hunting down a Child stealing spirit, Dean takes a dangerous bump to the head- erasing parts of his memory. Waking up and having no recollection of certain episodes of his life is enough to drive anyone to the brink of insanity. Will Sam be able to find a way to heal Dean and fill in the missing pieces of his life, or will Dean forever be locked within his mind filled with pot-holes and dark hallways?

**-**

**Chapter Note/s (Ode To My Family);**

I did not name the town the boys are in for the episode of this chapter since, to tell you the truth I don't know half the places over in America, and I don't wish to learn them. If anyone has a recommendation for a certain town or city that you think would suit a chapter, feel free to message me.

The Urban Legend is 100% false, to my knowledge anyway. Just simply thought up from the bottomless pits of my imagination.

**-**

**Wanted;**

Beta, please. I try, but sometimes my grammar isn't exactly the easiest to understand. And it's always good to have a second view. Please message me for more information.

Thanks.

**-**

**Cloud Number Nine**

**xLemonPepperx**

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_If I could kidnap an Angel,_

_I'd clip off it's wings..._

_If I could kidnap an Angel,_

_It could teach us to fly,_

_We could live forever,_

_Forever,_

_And never die..._

_Could I Kidnap an Angel?_

**Kidnap An Angel - Bon Jovi (Edited)**

**-**

**Chapter One**

Ode To My Family

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The springs squeaked their protest from beneath him as the 27 year old shifted slightly as he lay casually on his side, one arm stuck beneath his upper full weight, while the other hand lay casually over his hips, hand twisting and twiddling as it played with the small pocket knife that he had obtained from the bottom of his worn duffle bag only a few hours ago in an attempt to kill the time.

Bored, well that was an understatement. For the past hour (One hour, 34 minutes and 12 seconds, but whose keeping count?) the oldest of the two brothers had been lying on the small bed, attempting to keep himself amused. The younger of the two, Sam had gone down to the local library- the usual Geek stuff that he expected of the younger, leaving Dean to his own portion of their current mission.

A poltergeist, causing havoc in the small town concluded with a phone call to Deans phone from one of their Fathers old friends that John had met during the travels with his sons. Dean was unable to bring up any memories of their John Doe (he hadn't given them his name, for when the call took place all that echoed through the phone was static, words which were constantly being cut out and a single clear breath of coordination's) and Sam was also a negative. But a tip is a tip and the boys weren't brought up to ignore a distress call, especially when they were the mindlessly travelling prior to the call, and had no valid excuse why they shouldn't at least take a quick look.

So far, Dean had concluded that it was just another simple 'Salt and Burn' assignment. Although, like every mission finding exactly where the bones are, why the spirit is doing it, and trying to stop the next attack- they were all major points to heed before calling it a day. Stretching slightly he sat up quickly, which concluded in his hand just as quickly reaching up to clutch his head which angrily started swimming with the sudden movement.

Contrary to popular belief, the oldest brother wasn't a fan of just lazing out, not gaining any information and just blatantly sitting on his backside, especially when Sam was still at the library trying to find information on their mystery ghost. It only took a few moments for Dean to feel well enough to stand up without falling over his feet like a drunken idiot. Flipping subconsciously through the small black notebook which completed his Detective costume Dean read through the small snippets of notes that he had wrote down during the house calls he had completed before retreating back to this 'five' (more like minus five) star motel.

This spirit, it seemed to be attacking the children. Multiple cases from where children had just mysteriously gone missing over the past few months. No ransom notes from the kidnappers, no contact- just vanished like they never existed. All cases happened in the dead of the night and it wasn't until the next morning, when upon checking on the children they were found missing. So far multiple suspects had been questioned, but with no hard proof- it seems that it's just a lost case. Much like the common cold, no one knows how to stop it and it can strike any time of the year, any time of the day- and there is no escape.

Rough tanned hand combed through the short dark brown roughly, he felt a headache coming along and there was no silver lining for no conclusions that made themselves known. Dean was honestly looking forward to a holiday, just cruising around with his younger brother and his baby. Maybe stopping off at the beach or hot spring, just take it easy, relax... be normal. But no, John Doe just had to ring and foil Deans surprise holiday. A groan escaped his lips and he frowned with frustration and placed the leather bound notebook back on the side table and stood up, his arms stretching as he circled his shoulders knocking out the kinks that had knotted while lying in the oddly comfortable position on the bed. A sharp knock echoed throughout the small room, causing the Twenty-Seven year old to grab the small shot gun which was neatly tucked in the back of his jeans, left forgotten while relaxing, but as soon as a threat is visible, or audio, Hunter instincts are awoken.

"Dean!"

At the sound of the name coming in the tone of a familiar voice he grinned lightly and stuffed the gun back in it's hiding place and taking his sweet time as he slid over to the door, leaning against it as another knock echoed followed by yet another impatient; "Dean!"

"Forgot your key, Sammy?" A growl was his only response as his smirk widened, imagining the fuming look his brother face would be acquiring.

"You know I don't have a key yet! I've been at the library for the past five hours, I'm just glad this town only has three motels. You know you're as bad as Dad when it comes to answering texts."

Deep green eyes skimmed over the small kitchen where his cell phone sat on the simple tiled bench, green light flashing telling the older of the two that he has a missed alert. The mention of their father would normally bring sour faces which would conclude in an argument and conclude with a couple of hours worth of the 'Silent Treatment' followed by 'the look' for the following days, but since they both were in kind spirits (Dean more than Sam, but the younger knew what Deans game was) the comment went unnoticed, only the meaning stuck and caused effect. Unlocking the door Dean swung it open with a start, Sam who had been casually leaning against the door in hopes of hearing the older but more immature brother clearer stumbled through the doorway before striating himself up and pointing laser-like glares at Dean who just continued grinning with a childish innocence.

"Honestly Dean," sighed Sam as he sat own on the neatly made bed farthest away from the door, dropping the piles of paper that he had gathered while at the library on the surface in which he sat, "You are so immature. No wonder people think that I'm the older brother."

Shrugging, Dean walked over the fridge and obtained two bottles of Beer, tossing one over to Sam and keeping one to himself as he positioned himself on the bed he had stood up from no more than 15 minutes prior. "I was just making sure you weren't a shape shifter or anything."

"Right," sarcasm laced his words as he opened the bottle and stuck it on the nightstand, untouched.

"So what did you find out anyway?"

"Just like every town there's a ledged that is passed down through the generations. Most well known and the one that at least fit's the case is in the late 1800's, a simple small town girl gets married, becomes pregnant and ends up giving birth to a still born-"

"So," interrupted the older of the two who took a gulp of beer before continuing, "basically this evil bitch is going around kidnapping and killing ("We don't know if she's killing them yet, Dean. She could just be keeping them some place.") children because she gave birth to a dead baby. Thus! In this twisted and 100 year old witches mind of hers she believes that no one is allowed a child, because her greedy and selfish self couldn't have one?"

"Basically," the response came quickly from the younger who gave a small nod to Dean once he finished summarizing what Sam had spent the last hours researching in a single breath.

"Simple Salt and Burn then?"

The shake of the head caused the hopeful tone to turn into a small sigh, "After she had recovered from childbirth," continued Sam, tossing over a black and white photo copy of a page on the web with a picture of a grotesque woman, hunched over- long dark hair forming a curtain over her face with a small gap in the centre allowing the viewer to see large eyes, almost invisible nose and a snake-like tongue hanging from split lips. A small group of scared children were huddled together with her arms, sheltered from the sky by her hunched form, unable to move as sharp razor-like fingernails dented their flesh. It was the article for the "Child Snatcher." An in-depth view on the Legend. "She committed suicide. Like basically all the deaths back then, she was cremated."

"And here I was thinking it was going to be a short, simple mission," sighed Dean, scanning the article, and giving off a disgusted face as he looked at the image of the woman. "So what's keeping her here, Geek Boy?"

Ignoring the nickname Sam answered his brothers question after quickly sifting through the paper until he found a small icon-size image of a simple looking teddy bear, "My guess, is that," he stated, handing the paper over to Dean. "It was going to be the baby's first present and as the ledged stated. Before she committed suicide, she cut off a lock of hair and sowed it inside the bear."

"So where's this bear then?"

"Good question," Sam shrugged, stretching his arm out and gripping the still chilled beer. "It was passed down through the family, but then during the War all trace of the antique vanished. My guess would be a antique store, or a museum of some sorts. As far as I could tell, no living direct relatives are living today, and if they did- they no longer share the same last name."

Like a light bulb going off in his head Dean grinned, placing the bottle back on the nightstand with emphasis and grabbed the notebook which he had discarded earlier. "Maybe not." Sam raised an eye brow at his brothers sudden attitude change and leant forward, frowning slightly as the older of the two flipped through the pages. "I went around to the victims houses today, and as it turns out all the children had found a simple brown looking teddy bear prior to the disappearance. At first I didn't think much off it, since the parents seemed to add it as an after thought, and I mean- seriously, "killer teddy bears" doesn't seem like something overall Supernatural, more like the wonders of a Childs imagination."

"So where's this teddy now?" Sam held back to urge to mention 'Killer Clowns were Supernatural,' but bit his tongue instead and settled with the question.

A shrug was his response, "Far as I know, the last victims house is where this Killer Teddy should be." A small chuckle escaped his lips upon saying the words 'Killer' and 'Teddy' in the same sentence.

Rolling his eyes Sam just nodded, thus the two brothers agreed that the next day the would go around to the house and ask to check the daughters room, 'for signs of struggle, and any clues which would help for to bring their daughter back safety'.

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**Authors Note;**

I'd stick to this chapter as a trail. I'm requesting a Beta, or motivation to continue this story. I'll await and see what the response I get concerning this story, if it's positive, I'll update with the next chapter as soon as I can- otherwise I'll discontinue, and attempt something else.

I do realise that this chapter is short, and has nothing much to do with the plot, so please treat it as a teaser- to my writing style or the beginning of the plot.

Any Questions or Concerns please send me a message, or review.

Thankyou.

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**Chapter Two Preview;**

They searched every corner of the room, a typical childs bedroom. Toys here and there, a small Barbie house, a blinding amount of pink colouring the walls- but no sign of the teddy bear.


End file.
